


I'm Not Your Only But I'm Happy To Be Your One

by orphan_account



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Beverly Marsh & Richie Tozier Are Best Friends, Bichie Is The Definition Of Platonic Soulmates, But It's Not Reddie, F/M, Gen, M/M, Moving In Together, Nicknames, Overall A Lot Of Platonic Shit, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Soulmates, Platonic Use of the Word 'Babe', They're Like 14/15 in This, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:41:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22243516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “And they were roommates...”“mY gOD ThEy wERe RoOMmatEs”ok that but with like Bichie being platonic soulmates
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Beverly Marsh & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	1. You Love Me In All The Ways He Never Did

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So quick trigger warning, Bev's dad does try and do some non/con stuff with her but she handles it. Also slightly OOC Richie; he's still a major crackhead, but he's being soft for Bev in this chapter so its not that prominent.

Beverly’s home life sucked. She hated the way her dad looked at her, talked to her, and made her feel. She hated him. Every day she spent under his roof felt like a game of Russian roulette, never knowing what days he would simply ignore her and what days he would be all up in her business in his usual perverted and temperamental demeaner. That’s why she spent so much of her time with the Losers, the only males in her life that didn’t make her feel like a slut. They loved her despite how she looked and even though she knew Bill and Ben had a crush on her, she was aware that their friendship came first and that’s enough to make her feel warm inside. If it was up to Beverly, she would spend every hour of every day with the Losers. But, of course, it wasn’t up to her.

***

Beverly heard the door of her home creak open slowly as she laid in her room.

“Daddy’s home.” She thought bitterly.

She had really hoped that today would be one of those days where her dad wouldn’t come home, that instead he would be out gallivanting and getting drunk with a friend that would let him crash on their couch for the night. Then again, Beverly hoped it would be one of those days every day, it gave her the opportunity to go out and hang out with members of the Losers’ Club. Normally if it was late, she would hang out with Richie at his house. His parents were rarely ever around, and he was usually always up late with a cigarette in his mouth and a comic in his hands.

Bev heard the heavy creaking of her house’s aging wood floors grow louder and louder as the door of her bedroom was abruptly swung open. She quickly shut her eyes and feigned sleepiness. Maybe her dad would leave her alone if he knew she was sleeping. It was a wistful thought, and one she knew wasn’t going to happen.

“Bevey…I know you’re awake,” Alvin said in a slurred voice. He must’ve been really drunk; he never slurred his words when he was usually trashed. Bev started to slightly sweat under her light pink comforter.

“You know you can’t fool your Daddy. I know you best after all,” he whispered, taking his calloused hand and stroking it against her daughter’s cheek. Beverly started to shake.

“Please go away. Please go away. Please go away,” she chanted over and over in her head. She tried not to scrunch up her eyes as her dad took one of his fingernails and outlined her lips.

“Dad, I’m tired,” the redhead mumbled, trying to keep her voice steady as Alvin was lowering his fingers towards her collarbones.

“I bet you are. Always running around all day, never here at home with me like a good girl should be,” he slurred. His rough hands rubbed her shoulders brashly. Beverly let herself swallow a sob.

“How do you think that makes me feel? My own baby girl not having enough time for me. We never spend time together, Bevey, take this as compensation,” the man continued. Beverly breath hitched as she felt her dad place his shaky hands upon her breast.

“Daddy, you’re drunk. Go to sleep. I promise we’ll spend time together tomorrow,” Bev pleaded, her face turning at bright as her hair. Her dad had never been this intimate with her before. There have been times where he was very close to touching her inappropriately but stopped himself due to Beverly’s cries and pleads. Even though he was a complete creep, he still hated seeing his daughter cry. It brought out a softer side of him, though this side did come with multiple skewed morals.

“No, I think you’re lying to me, Bevey, just like you’re lying to me about hanging out with boys.”

Beverly stilled. How did he find out? Had he seen her hang out with the Losers? Did someone tell him? This couldn’t be happening; he wasn’t doing this to her.

“I don’t think you understand that you’re my baby girl, Bevey. You can’t slum around with a bunch of boys. That’s not what a good girl would do—that’s not what my good girl would do,” Alvin said. Then, he was climbing on top of Beverly, pulling down her bedsheets to reveal her skimpy blue sleeping shorts and black tank top. The redhead was breathing heavily, tears were now streaming down her freckled cheeks, and she was sweating profusely. She looked around her room in desperate search of someone to help her. She knew no one was going to come, no one came the other hundreds of times she screamed. What she did see, however, was a pair of scissors laying on her bedside table, the same scissors she used to ensure the shortness of her hair. She fixated her blue eyes upon them intently, thinking of all the possible ways she could stick them into her father. She needed to get away from him, she had to. There was no possible way that Beverly could ever forgive her dad after this, she didn’t even believe she could be in the same room with him ever again. He ruined her, he ruined everything about her, and she wasn’t going to let him ruin the only thing she had left to live for.

“Are you still my mine?” the man asked, lowering his neck to kiss his daughter’s neckline.

“No!” Beverly yelled at the top of her lungs. Her dad’s head shot up instantly, he looked livid.

“What did you say to me?” he growled. He raised his hand in an obvious attempt to hit Bev.

“I said no!” Bev shrieked, quickly grabbing the scissors from her bedside and shoving them into the throbbing neck of her dad. Blood spewed haphazardly as Bev forced more and more of the scissors into Alvin’s neck. She didn’t want to admit it, but Beverly felt a rush of sadistic pleasure coarse through her veins as she watched the man who was supposed to give her fatherly love shrivel and scream in front of her in a gory mess. As she was done torturing him, the female got up from her now blood-soaked bed and walked over to her drawer. She pulled out some of her favorite articles of clothing and placed them into a backpack she had stashed away from a corner in her room. She was barely aware of what she was doing, but all she knew was that she had to leave and never come back. That suited her just fine. She let tears trickle down her face as she packed up essential items, but not of sadness. She had just killed her dad and felt…fine. God, how fucked up could she be? She decided not to answer that question as she slung her backpack over her shoulders and walked out of her childhood home in nothing but a tank top and pajama shorts.

***

Richie was smoking a cigarette on the porch of his empty house. It was cold outside despite it being June, and he knew he should go in before he got a cold, but he was getting to the good part of the cigarette and you never stop smoking when you get to the good part of a cigarette. He was lonely, but he normally was at night. His parents hadn’t been home in 4 days and the only sense of companionship he got when he wasn’t with the Losers was with singers in his mixtape collections. If it wasn’t the singers, it was the cigarettes and hours upon hours of mindless joke telling in his head. He made himself laugh and that was enough.

It was dark and Richie already knew that it was way past Derry’s 7pm curfew, but he still couldn’t find himself to go inside and go to sleep. He never fell asleep earlier than 2 am anyway—what was the point when no one was there to nag him? Sometimes he desperately craved for someone to nag him just so he could tell himself he had people that cared about him. That’s why he loved the Losers. That’s why he loved—

“Bev?” Richie said after seeing a familiar silhouette walk up towards him. He was shocked to see her with dried blood on her hands, cheek, and neck and dressed in such revealing attire. She looked fazed, but for the most part fine.

“It’s past curfew, asshole, what are you doing up?” the redhead responded, grabbing the cigarette out of Richie’s mouth and sticking it into her own.

“What the fuck happened to you Bev? Why are covered in blood and dressed like a prostitute?'

“Maybe don’t yell that in a secluded street in the middle of the night, dipshit,” Beverly joked, exhaling the smoke from her mouth.

“This isn’t funny.”

“First time I’ve heard EVER heard you say that, Trashmouth.”

“Bev, c’mon, I have a right to be worried. We defeated a fucking clown last year and we live in psycho-town central.”

“You’re right, Rich, I’m sorry. Um…well let’s put it this way, I think I need somewhere to stay,” Bev faltered. She looked smaller when she wasn’t too busy making sure her walls were up. Richie secretly prided himself in being one of the people Beverly so casually let herself be vulnerable around.

“Is…is this about your dad? Did that asshole do something to do?” Richie asked, protectively. Very few things made Richie mad, and Alvin Marsh was one of them. He hated the way that dirtbag was such a creep to Beverly, she didn’t deserve that. Beverly deserved so much more than she was ever given.

“He…tried. He…he um,” Bev teared up. Her hands started shaking slightly which made her drop the cigarette. Richie got up from his perch at the porch and put his arms around his friend. Bev sobbed into his arms as he stroked her hair lovingly.

“Hey, hey…listen to me, you’re safe. You’re safe,” Richie consoled, rubbing small circle into Beverly’s back,” I swear when I get my hands on that fucker…”

“I killed him, Richie. I killed him. I killed him…” Beverly wailed, trying harder and harder to bury herself in the boy’s shoulder.

Richie froze up. He didn’t expect that, but he was relieved. He was happy Beverly was safe from that prick and that he wasn’t a problem in her life anymore. He couldn’t blame her for killing her dad, if he was being honest, he deserved it ages ago.

“Shhh…hey it’s ok. You’re ok. You did what you had to do, no one’s gonna blame you. No one will ever blame you, babe,” Richie murmured into the redhead’s ear.

“Did you just call me ‘babe’,” Beverly responded, gripping tighter to Richie. She was shivering it a bit which wasn’t surprising as it was chilly outside, and she was dressed in essentially nothing.

“I don’t know, I thought I was being all sweet and shit, but it just came out like you were my girlfriend or something,” the raven-haired boy admitted. Bev let out a shaky laugh.

“No, I liked it, but nothing is going to top Molly Ringwald, though.”

“I’ll take that into account, Molly.”

“Nice to know, Trashmouth.”

The two friends hugged for a bit more out in the cold. It would’ve been uncomfortable if they weren’t already such good friends. Richie and Beverly, although they loved all the Losers, had a special bond. They both had shitty homelives and an affinity for smoking to forget their problems. Over the past year, they had gotten closer. Richie would always have an extra cigarette for Bev and vise vera. They would talk about their problems during their smoke breaks, and quite recently Bev would start sneaking into Richie’s house in the middle of the night when her dad was away. Although they would never admit it to one another (because they were both self-shielded pricks), they loved each other in the most platonic way you could ever love someone. Deep down they both already knew that.

“I love the sentiment, Rich, but can we go inside before my nipples fall off,” Bev commented.

“Sure,” Richie agreed,” I didn’t want to say anything, but I could feel your nipples digging into my chest for the past 20 minutes. Jesus, they’re like fucking bullets. Are you even wearing a bra?”

“No self-respecting women sleeps with a bra on. Also, beep beep, Richie,” the girl joked, dragging her friend into his house.

“So, am I sleeping on the couch? Is there a guest room I could use? I can do whatever’s convenient.”

“Well, there’s no guest room which is dumb cause my dad’s fucking loaded. And I can’t let you sleep on the couch, where’s the chivalry in that?”

“Didn’t think you had any, Trashmouth.”

“Only for you, sweets. Why don’t you just sleep in my room? My bed’s got enough room for two people,” Richie replied, jokingly waggling his eyebrows.

“Slick, Tozier, real slick. If that’s how you plan on seducing women then I suggest some workshop,” Bev laughed.

“The only woman I would ever want in my bed is you, Bevey babe,” Rich winked. Beverly faked gagged.

The boy curtsied and outstretched his lanky arm,” To your sleeping quarters m’lady.”

Said lady took the boy’s arm and giggled. They retreated up the stairs and entered Richie’s disorganized room. There were articles of clothing everywhere with gum wrappers and cigarette buds among them. The whole reeked of smoke and mint.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Richie presented, sitting on his queen-sized bed and flourishing a hand.

“I’m overwhelmed,” Bev dead-panned, joining Richie on his bed. In reality she thought it was great to live in a place where she felt safe with someone who made her feel safe. It was refreshing. Out of all the Losers she could’ve lived with, she was happy she chose Richie. He understood her, and it also helped that his parents were never home. Ben or Bill would be all over her, Eddie’s mom would slut shame her minute she rang the doorbell, Stanley’s parents would never allow him to have a woman in his house, and Mike’s farm just seemed scary.

“Hey, Bev, I know you probably don’t want to talk about this shit, but you seem to be…ok…freakishly ok for someone who just murdered their dad. Do you wanna talk about it some more cause I like don’t want you to have some sort of mental break or something like that?” Richie asked, sincerely.

Beverly sighed pensively,” To be honest, I don’t really feel bad for killing him, Rich. I know that massively screwed up, but he treated me like shit for years and today he would’ve…you know…if I hadn’t stopped him. I’d rather deal with the fact that I killed him than the fact that he could’ve…done stuff to me.”

Richie nodded in understanding. He put his long arm around Beverly’s shoulder and held her close. Bev rested her head on the boy’s shoulder.

“For what its worth, I’m proud of you. It takes guts to stand up to your shitty parents.”

“If that’s your definition of ‘standing up’…”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do.” Bev smirked,” Hey, Rich?”

“Yeah?” he speckled boy retorted.

“I’m happy I’m your friend.”

“Stop being so sappy, you girl,” Richie teased before placing a gentle kiss on the top of Beverly’s head. Bev melted at the contact. For the first time in her entire life, she felt like she was going to be safe. For real, this time.

“If you tell anyone about this…”

“Don’t worry, Tozier, I know you have a reputation to uphold.”

Richie laughed softly and rubbed his hand across Bev’s soothingly. Her hands were still covered in blood, but they were both too preoccupied to even notice. She was too tired to clean it up, anyway. She felt her eyes droop lazily as she leaned on her friend.

“Go to sleep, Bev. No one’s going to hurt you anymore,” Richie promised. And Beverly believed him as she let her eyes close tiredly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fueling all my uwus...


	2. Why Does He Love You More?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No beta cause grammar is for nerds. No summaries either cause ew. If you want to know what happens in the fic then read it. Love y 'all.

Beverly woke up with a groan and stretched her limbs tiredly. She noticed her hands were wiped clean of the blood she managed to get on them from the night before. She also noticed that she was tucked tightly into a bed. She gathered that Richie probably cleaned her up and tucked her in when she fell asleep last night. The girl smiled to herself and turned her head to see the mop of curly hair that belonged to Richie. She carefully brushed the boy’s hair out of his face and kissed his forehead.

“Thanks, Trashmouth,” Bev whispered. She then wrapped herself snugly around Richie’s warm body and buried her face in his shoulder.

“Anytime, babe,” Richie murmured before cuddling the redhead back.

***

“I’m bored,” Bev whined, sitting on Richie’s counter as the boy did the dishes. To Bev’s surprise, Richie was very domestic. He knew how to cook, clean (although he would never let Eddie know that), do laundry, pay bills, buy groceries, and lots of other boring household shit. She guess it made sense; not having parents around forces you to be the adult yourself, but she just never imagined Richie of all the Losers to be so responsible.

“We can meet up with the Losers if you want. We’re going to have to break the news anyway that we’re shacking up together, better to do it now then later when I wife you up,” Richie responded.

Bev smirked,” I think I’d be the one wifeing you up, Tozier. You’re literally doing my dishes right now, and 5 minutes ago you asked me to watch Sixteen Candles with you.”

“Supporting gender roles isn’t a good look on you, Molly. Also, Sixteen Candles is a fucking classic and I’m not going to feel ashamed for liking it,” the boy replied, flicking some soap water at his new roommate. Bev chuckled before walking over to Richie’s landline and punching in Mike’s number. She knew that of she called Mike and asked him to hang out, the others would immediately follow his lead.

“Mike Hanlon speaking,” the familiar voice greeted.

“Hey, Mike, it’s Beverly. Do you think that you and the rest of the Losers could hang out today? I’m really fucking bored and Richie wants me to go on a rom-com binge with him.”

“ROMANTIC COMEDIES ARE GREAT MOVIES AND I REFUSE FOR YOU TO INSULT THEM!” Richie shouted from the kitchen.

“See what I mean?” Bev laughed.

“Why are you at Richie’s house at 9 in the morning?” Mike asked in a confused tone.

“Meet us at the quarry in an hour and maybe you’ll get your answer,” the redhead retorted before hanging up the call.

“So, does this mean we’re not going to watch Sixteen Candles?” Bev heard Richie say from the kitchen. She shook and smiled at his antics. Man, she was going to love living with this dork.

***

Richie and Bev were both smoking cigarettes in the quarry while waiting for their friends to arrive. It was a chilly day out and Beverly was really regretting not wearing anything more covering than shorts and a tank top. Richie, on the other hand, looked cozy as hell in his oversized sweater and jeans.

“Why is it so fucking cold? It’s mid-June and I’m cold as hell,” Beverly snapped whilst taking a long drag at her cig.

“Maybe you should’ve taken my advice on wearing more layers before we left the house,” mocked Richie, blowing smoke in her face. Bev swatted it away before flicking Rich on the shoulder.

“Why are you such a dad? It’s like the minute we’re not with the other Losers you let your masculinity crumbles into this father-figure who apparently knows how to do taxes.”

“Excuse you, doing taxes is manly.”

“Ok, Rich.”

“I’m serious. Babe, if you can’t get yourself a man who knows his way around numbers then might as well leave him for dead.”

“Good thing I have you then,” Bev replied. Richie gave her a wink.

All of a sudden, the rest of the Losers came stampeding into the quarry, interrupting Beverly and Richie’s moment alone.

“H-hey, B-bev,” Bill waved.

“I’m here to, Big Bill,” Richie commented as Bev waved back.

“How could we forget,” Stan muttered.

“Sweets, you couldn't forget me if you tried,” Richie said.

“Isn’t that a line from the Breakfast Club,” Bev asked the jokester.

“Kinda. The original line is ‘sweets, you couldn't ignore me if you tried’, but I appreciate your movie knowledge, Molly.”

“That means a lot coming from you, Mr. I Own Every Rom Com That Molly Ringwald Has Ever Starred In.”

“What can I say, she reminds me of my favorite girl,” Richie poked Beverly playfully in the shoulder. All of the Losers starred at Rich and Bev in confusion. When did the two get so buddy-buddy with one another? Sure, they were friends, but they were the closest in their eyes.

“So, Bev, care to answer my question from this morning?” Mike questioned, sitting next to Stan and Eddie.

“What question?” Eddie asked, scrunching up his eyes at the smoke the two roommates were causing.

“Oh shit, Eds, sorry,” Richie quickly said before taking his and Bev’s cigarette and putting them out.

“Thanks,” Eddie replied with a smile,” And my name’s not Eds.”

“Bev called me at 9 am today telling me she wanted to hang out because Richie was forcing her to watch rom coms with him,” Mike said. Ben, Eddie, and Bill both looked between Bev and Rich in confusion. Stan just looked as unamused as he usually did.

“What were you doing at Richie’s house that early?” Ben asked, albeit with a nervous twinge in his voice.

A harsh wind blew across the quarry just as Ben had asked his question which resulted in Bev clutching Richie with chittering teeth.

“Hey, Bev, you ok?” Richie queried. Without any hesitation, he took off his sweater and handed to Bev,” Here you go, asshole, maybe listen to me next time when I say wear extra layers.”

Bev gave him the middle finger before quickly shoving herself into the huge XL sweater,” Are you sure you won’t be cold?”

“No, this shirt is warm enough. Plus, I’d feel really shitty if you got sick while we were staying with me. I may be able to do taxes, but I can’t play nurse.”

“Thanks, Rich,” Bev murmured. She then wrapped herself around Richie’s body and tried to cover him in as much of the sweater as she could. Little did they know that all of the Losers were staring at them in shock. When did this shit happen?

“Um…excuse me, but did you just say Bev’s staying with you?” Stan asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

“Oh…um…yeah, Bev and I are now roomies,” Richie replied, putting his arm around said roomie.

“What?” Eddie and Ben deadpanned. Stan and Mike shared a look before smirking at each other. Ben just looked flabbergasted.

“Yeah…um some shit went down between me and my dad—”

“—by ‘shit going down’ she means ‘blatant murder,” Richie interrupted. Beverly elbowed him hard in the ribs. The Losers perked up and stared at the roommates with wide eyes.

“Wait…what? Is he telling the truth?” Mike asked Beverly with a concerned look plastered on his face.

“Shit, um…yeah. I don’t really want to get into it, but he was being a creep and well…I killed him,” Bev said slowly. Richie grabbed her hand in comfort,” I know you probably think that’s really fucked up, but he…was going to do some stuff to me and I couldn’t—I couldn’t let him do that to me. Not anymore and not ever again.”

“Hey, Bev, its ok. I told you no one is going to blame you. Right, guys?” Richie said, staring pointedly at each of the Losers. The Losers stared at Richie in shock, they had never seen this side of him before. For once, Trashmouth was being serious. It scared them enough to make them nod their heads.

“Bev, you did what you had to. I could never blame you for that,” Ben consoled.

“Me too,” Bill agreed.

“I mean…despite the very illegal and callous crime you committed—you’re still my friend and I trust and care about you,” Stan added in his true Stan way.

Bev felt her eyes water as each of the boys said their praise. She wiped them away with the sleeves of Richie’s sweater,” Group hug, you dorks.”

All of the boys looked wearily at each other before smiling and wrapping themselves around Beverly’s shivering body. Richie, unsurprisingly, was the only one who still hung on when the other Losers pulled away.

“Rich, the moment’s kinda over,” Stan said.

“The moment is never over, Staniel. Plus, she’s really warm.”

Bev chuckled and patted Richie’s head in fondness.

“But, really? You decided to live with Richie of all people?” Eddie asked, albeit with some jealousy drawn across his face.

“What can I say? He’s my soulmate. And a really good wife.”

“Kinda a back-handed compliment but I’ll take it, Ringwald.”

“Oh shush, you know that you’re the total MILF.”

“If I’m a MILF does that make you my child or a DILF?”

“Obviously a DILF, have you seen me?”

“Up close and personal, sweets.”

“Ok, I need to interrupt your guy’s weird foreplay because I’m genuinely starting to feel nauseous,” Stan exaggerated, rolling his eyes at his friend’s antics.

“I s-second th-that,” Bill stuttered. Ben and Eddie nodded beside him. Mike looked like he was about to burst out laughing.

“Oh c’mon, I think their banter is cute,” Mike said.

“See, at least someone appreciates me and Bev’s everlasting bond,” Rich responded as he hooked his arm around Bev’s shoulder.

“It’s not at we don’t appreciate it, its just that we’d prefer you do in a more PG way,” Eddie huffed, staring at Richie intently.

“Nothing me and Richie do is PG,” Bev laughed.

“Especially when we fuck,” Richie added which sent Beverly into a fit of hysterics. Stanley groaned dramatically whilst Mike joined the two roomies in their fit of laughter.

“But you don’t actually do that, do you?” Eddie asked innocently. He looked like he was about to cry.

“What? You mean fucking? Yeah, Eds, we’re doing all the time—”

“—24/7,” Bev added.

“—but don’t worry, I still have a special place in my heart for your mom.”

“Oh, shut up, asshole,” Eddie swore, realizing that what the two friends were saying was fake.

“Is it just me or do Beverly and Richie’s personalities get like 100% worse when they’re together?” Ben questioned.

“It’s not just you,” Stan, Mike, and Eddie all agreed.

“I-It’s n-not just y-you,” Bill replied.

“It’s because we’re platonic soulmates,” Richie said.

“Who smoke a lot of weed,” Bev commented.

They both nodded their heads in unison as if the whole gesture was rehearsed.

“I’m literally going brain-dead right now,” Stan complained, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You’re the not only one,” Ben retorted, placing his heads in his hands.

“Do guys wanna watch Sixteen Candles at my house?” Richie asked abruptly.

***

Eddie stared at Beverly and Richie the entire movie. They were both sitting in a one-seater armchair which resulted in their body parts overlapping one another. It shouldn’t have been comfortable but somehow, they made it work. Every 10 minutes or so they would lean in and whisper something that they would both laugh at. Eddie’s blood boiled. He knew he had nothing to be worried about—Richie and Beverly were just friends, but he didn’t know why he was so worried in the first place. Why did his heart constrict every time he saw Rich and Bev act so personal with one another? He knew he didn’t have a crush on Beverly, she was gorgeous, but he never favored her, so what was the problem? Was it the thought of him losing his best friend? Yes, that was it. He was jealous that Beverly was stealing his best friend away from him. After all, Richie was always close and personal with him, not her. Eddie was the one Richie constantly pestered and joked around with, not Beverly. He knew he was being a jerk for not wanting to share Richie with Beverly who so desperately needed a solid friend, but it was his Richie. _His_ Richie. His Richie was cuddling Beverly on a couch and he felt like shit because of it. His Richie was now Bev’s Richie, and he fucking hated it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know it's funny, I always have the end notes be different in every fic I write. Maybe it's not that funny...


End file.
